I Know Now
by TheNinthMaiden
Summary: If I knew then, what I know now, would I change anything?  Without realizing it, Tseng's about to get the opportunity to find out.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, welcome!  
><strong>Before you dive into the fic, a few words from the author here. I, _of course_, do not own Final Fantasy VII and the Compilation, its characters, locations, events etc. This fic is done for recreation only, I make no profit.

This is an alternate timeline fic, revolving around Tseng. So, some events may not happen at all, happen as they did in cannon, or in that order. I _know_ there are a lot of fics similar to this... but so it goes. If you're tired of them, you won't read this of course. I'd like to think my spin is at least a little interesting.

Please don't mind the centered numbers I use as breaks throughout the story. There's no great meaning to them. Just a formatting quirk of mine. That all aside, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>: If I Knew Then

* * *

><p><em>SOLDIERs deserting... copies... Rhapsodos and Hewley... AVALANCHE... Modeoheim... Aerith... Nibelheim... Sephiroth... Zack... 88 letters... the plate falling... the President dead... the Temple of the Ancients... the Masamune-<em>

Tseng shot upright, panting and sweating, eyes blinking in uncertain intervals as his mind spun, dizzy and disoriented. The lack of familiar scenery didn't help, this room he was in sterile and unfamiliar. _'No... this room is...'_ Trying to regain his senses, find some sort of balance, the Turk rookie took in a deep breath. In... slowly... out... just as slow. He repeated the process, feeling his heartbeat finally settle down, the panic begin to ebb. The formerly erratic beeping of a heart monitor eased into a mild rhythm of tones, audible proof of Tseng's reclaimed calm.

He shifted on the bed, adjusting white blankets that covered his legs, trying not to instinctively pull out the IV connected to his arm. Despite the intense throb and pain behind his eyes, Tseng was reclaiming his wits. His chest hurt, a bandage wrapped around it. He was in the infirmary... one of ShinRa's if the logos on the machinery was any indicator. He swallowed and eased his body back against the pillows, the pain from his injury spiking, no doubt aggravated thanks to his sudden start. His hand moved to massage over the bandages lightly, and a flash of what'd woken him up just moments before cut through him.

Cut through him exactly as Sephiroth's Masamune had.

Tseng let out a gasp, another string of visions assaulting him, a maelstrom of sights and sounds that flashed through his mind faster than he could truly comprehend.

_Jenova... Hojo... Weapons... Meteor... Geostigma... the Northern Crater... Remnants... Cloud Strife...  
><em>

His eyes rolled back, body nearly convulsing as phantom pains hit more of him. His face hurt from abuse he surely hadn't suffered, from violence at the hands of a green-eyed silver-haired youth he'd never met. The heart monitor began to beat out a distressed song as the rookie tensed, fingers curling from pain all over, but more than anywhere in his head. The training he'd received as a Turk seemed impossible for him to put into use right now, no matter how much he struggled. Shear blind panic was hitting him hard, furthering the distress his body was in. He tried, so very very hard, to think rationally.

Because he'd never been _run through_ by Sephiroth, didn't rank high enough in the company to have any but the most remote associations with the SOLDIER. He'd never been hurt in the Northern Crater... never been there at all! He wasn't here in the infirmary thanks to some sort of mortal wound... he'd been careless in a training mission! He'd been knocked about and taken down by men with blunt objects... not blades. He was bruised, not bleeding beneath his bandage. No matter how much he tried to tell himself though, the pain continued to grow, his body convulsing with the shock of deadly metal plunging through him as he tried to keep _it_ out of Sephiroth's hands...

Keep what?

His fingers curled and clutched at the air, as if seeking out something, and he coughed and gagged as his breathing lost any semblance of a pattern. The buzzing in his ears stopped him from hearing the screaming of the machines around him, and he never really realized how many nurses came rushing in to see what was happening. Whether he closed his eyes or not, he lost sight of the room and the world around him. But he continued to see... see such impossible things.

- 1 2 3 4 5 4 3 2 1 -

"Ah... you're awake now..."

Head groggy and mouth feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton, Tseng had the fleeting notion that the nurse had realized it before he had. With the way his head was feeling right now, it was entirely possible. He could have been lying here awake, eyes opened for an hour, and not actively understood he was no longer sleeping. He knew he _should_ feel annoyed at that, should feel upset at this slip in behavior. A Turk shouldn't lie about, wasting the day away unaware of their surroundings. But... a heavy fatigue had settled over him in both mind and body, and the rookie couldn't force himself to care.

The nurse, who'd been adjusting the bag connected to the IV that ran to his arm, seemed undaunted by his lack of response. She leaned over him slightly, looking at his eyes in that seeking clinical way. Her smile never wavered, professional yet possibly genuine, and she gave Tseng a little pat on the shoulder. "I'll just call the doctor then... you gave us quite the scare!" The rookie nodded his head, feeling unbearably slow of wit right now and not even comprehending his situation properly. Why was he in the infirmary?

While the nurse was paging the doctor, Tseng turned his eyes down at his body. Beneath the hospital gown he could see the top of a bandage wrapped about his chest, and he moved a shaking hand that felt like stone from his side to touch it. He rubbed his fingers absently over the binding, brows furrowing as he tried to recall. How... had he gotten here? Everything was disjointed, and though it couldn't technically hurt to simply think... it truly seemed to. The more he attempted to remember anything right now, the more a persistent throb began to grow behind his eyes and at his temples.

Finished paging the doctor, the nurse wandered back to the bedside, sympathy in her eyes. "Does it still hurt? It probably will for a while, but we can prescribe you some mild pain killers. Wait..." She glanced down at his chart and shook her head. "_Very_ mild, Mr. Turk. Your department and its stipulations, I swear." She laughed, though it was clear she was a little annoyed. "'No substances that might alter mental performance in any manner... no use of materia in healing wounds unless absolutely necessary'... honestly. You would have been out of here immediately if we'd tossed a Cure at you."

Tseng licked his lips slowly, taking in her words, trying to fit them into his head so that they made sense. He didn't have amnesia... not completely. He was aware he was a Turk, but his current situation was still muddled. He looked at his chest, then back up to the nurse. "I... I wasn't stabbed, was I?"

The nurse's eyes widened, and she looked clearly startled by the question. She shook her head, beginning to speak just as the doctor walked in. "No, you certainly weren't stabbed."

The doctor grabbed the chart, sending a keen look at the others in the room. "Stabbed?" He queried to the nurse, who shot a vague look at Tseng from the corner of her eye.

"Ah, it looks like he's a bit disoriented..." She explained, stepping back to give the doctor room to work. The doctor nodded his head, popping on a smile that didn't hit his eyes as he pulled out a small light. Without a word he moved, shining it in Tseng's eyes, before pulling round his stethoscope and having a listen to his chest. The usual 'breathe in deep... now exhale' routine went by, and this at least seemed comforting to the Turk. This felt familiar and safe. The doctor continued his checks in silence before stepping back to scribble away at his patient's chart.

"Well, Tseng, everything seems alright for you now," he said. His eyes never left the chart, and his voice was brisk and efficient. Perhaps the nurses ShinRa employed were paid to be friendly, but the doctors need only be efficient. Too much of a bedside manner was probably a detriment. "To answer your question, you were not stabbed. You suffered from three severe concussive blows, two to the chest and one to your shoulder. There was also a mild one to your head, no doubt what knocked you out and, as it seems, what is causing this disorientation you're feeling."

The doctor snapped the chart shut and fixed Tseng with a gaze. "However, I see no reason to hold you here any longer. Despite your earlier incident, I'm satisfied we do not need to worry about a concussion at this point. You may leave and return to duty tomorrow." The Turk nodded his head, trying to remember this fight he'd been in. The doctor made it as far as the door before he paused, looking over his shoulder. "I realize the Turks do not disclose mission details... but... tell me, would you have been exposed to any Mako during that mission?"

"No," Tseng answered smoothly... and while he had the sense that was the truth, he would have stated something similar no matter what. It wasn't the doctor's business to know. The doctor nodded and left, leaving the nurse who very kindly helped Tseng get ready to leave. As much as he wanted to just go home, try to clear his head, he knew he needed to contact Veld immediately. No rest for the Turks, even a rookie.

* * *

><p><strong>End chapter note:<strong>

Well, that's one chapter down. Hopefully enjoyable for you all. I know Tseng doesn't have the popularity that the other FF7 characters have, but I like him quite a bit. Hopefully others do, too. Zack and Aerith will be playing significant roles later, if you need bait to keep reading, ha.  
>Reviews are loved, though if commenting on something you don't like do at least try to be polite and constructive. This is just for fun, right? Right!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**: False Memory?

* * *

><p>"Again." The voice was deep and measured, yet not the sort you could disobey. It carried across the desk in an ordered calm, reaching out to grip you, hold you in place.<p>

Tseng drew in a deep breath, back straight and shoulders squared in perfect posture. His arms were crossed behind his back, his eyes glued to his superior's unwavering stare. Perhaps other departments and branches didn't care where you looked when giving a report, or expected you to look at some arbitrary point above your superior's head, but Veld had always insisted, in moments like this, that his subordinates look him in the eye.

Tseng worked hard not to flinch from such an expectation, not an easy feat at all, especially with his tied back hair leaving no shield for him to hide behind. It wasn't guilt or anything but the unyielding expectations Veld carried for the Turks that made so many break out into a sweat before his eyes. Much as Tseng was not immune to the man's presence, he respected it highly, admired it as well. He had nothing to conceal.

Tseng wasn't planning to lie to Veld right now regardless. He had no reason to, and he surely wasn't addled enough to think trying was a good idea. Still... he wasn't certain exactly _why_ his superior was making him repeat his failed training mission report over and over. Yes, there was the benefit of examining it, learning from his mistakes, but it was becoming excessive, this repetition. Perhaps it was a punishment in part as well, for failures were unacceptable, but the keen way Veld was eying him made Tseng wonder at the real motive.

The older man had no tells in his posture, professional and serious. Displeasure sat upon his face, clearly so, yet it was nothing near the face of a man about to lose his temper. Not that at all. Whatever he was driving at Tseng couldn't tell, and so once again he offered the report of what had happened. His body ached, even with the mild painkillers in his system, but not enough to worry over. He didn't hesitate at all in his words.

At the end of his report, which covered only the mission, not his hospital stay, Veld's frown deepened. Tseng resisted the urge to shift his posture, tried not to be intimidated by that look. Veld scrutinized him, something unreadable in his eyes that left Tseng's mind to racing trying to understand what.

"How were you injured?" Veld asked at last, and Tseng fought the frown from his face, his temper threatening to get the best of his common sense. He'd told Veld multiple times now...

"I suffered blunt trauma from the metal pipes the men were carrying, blows to the chest and the-"

"You weren't stabbed?" Veld cut him off and Tseng faltered, blinking his eyes. Trying to maintain his composure he drew in another slow breath. A shiver seemed to tickle down the back of his neck and it took everything the rookie had not to reach up and rub at it. Still, upon reflection now, he noticed his error.

"I was, yes... in the chest..." His uncertainty was not left hanging in the air at all, words shutting it down.

"Before or after the first blow to your torso?" Veld's question was immediate. He was obviously trying to leave Tseng off balance. The rookie cringed inside, his confusion causing an anxious pit to form in his gut. Veld's tactics were, of course, working.

"Before..." He offered, not at all confident in what he said.

"Was the wound deep?" Again, no chance to elaborate or think. Tseng faltered, eyes flicking down as if he could see through clothes and bandages. The dulled pain... it did nothing to clarify what had happened to him, ludicrous as it was that he suddenly simply couldn't remember. "Was the wound deep?" His superior reiterated, and Tseng nearly took a step back at the tone. No, he hadn't been yelled at. Veld didn't need to _yell_ at you to make it very obvious you weren't meeting expectations. Clearly he was taking too long to respond.

"Yes..." Tseng offered slowly. His heart felt too fast in his chest.

Finally, Veld seemed to give the rookie a moment to think, a meager break. It took everything Tseng had not to reach up and rub at his wounded chest, to ease the pain if not to probe at it, learn the nature of it. His superior blinked, unreadable thoughts passing through his eyes, before he made his next command. "Describe the weapon."

Composing himself as well as he could, Tseng tried to reclaim the polite calm he sought to carry himself with at all times. Still, no matter the professionalism he hoped to project, he could not force his mind to feel certain of anything. "... it was a sword..." He paused, hesitating. Was this it? If he described the sword he'd obviously implicate Sephiroth in this. Who else used such a distinct weapon? Is that what had Veld bothered, the possibility that SOLDIERs had been involved in what was supposed to be a very minor terrorist cell? That SOLDIERs had actually turned on a Turk?

Veld's eyes waited for Tseng to continue, and the rookie did as expected by his boss. He described the sword in clear detail, with the knowledge only one who used the blade or suffered from it could. No detail was left out, the precision of a Turk's report something beyond reproach. Deep lines appeared in Veld's face as he contemplated this, and the man lapsed into silence behind his desk. Tseng remained at attention, waiting.

At length Veld seemed to recline back in his chair a bit, though he seemed anything but pleased. He gave Tseng a long piercing look, as if to see through the young man, before sighing. Displeasure at a failed mission had seemed to become something else, and it made the rookie's stomach drop. Veld turned his computer monitor around so the rookie could look at it. "Sephiroth was not in Midgar at the time of your mission," he stated succinctly. Impossible as that had to be, Tseng nodded slowly, looking at the report. "Additionally, Tseng, you were _not_ stabbed on your mission... and you certainly weren't run through by the Masamune."

Tseng had to purse his lips together to keep from speaking, briefly indignant. Was he being accused of lying? Veld reached up, rubbing the bridge of his nose for just a moment, something oddly weary in the motion. Still, Tseng was at a loss. Next to the mission report was his medical one, and it clearly stated no puncture wounds were treated or observed. But he could remember it so clearly, it still hurt. His confusion must have slipped onto his face, a stoic mask not yet perfected, for Veld shook his head.

"Tseng, you are not a young man who conjures up stories like this. I know you're not a liar, and typically you're quite dependable and capable." Tseng stood a bit straighter at the praise, a rarity. "However, each time you gave me your report of your mission, the way you were wounded varied. All other details remained unchanged, only that point proved inconsistent. I do not believe you're changing the story consciously or trying to hide anything."

Tseng dropped his gaze for a moment, feeling ashamed that his failed mission was still lingering on him, like a stain to his previously spotless record. Failing a training missions of all things at that. "I'm sorry, sir," he offered, no excuses or justifications to say.

Veld brushed it off. "The way a body responds to injury is nothing to apologize for. You've only just been released from the infirmary. However, you have been scheduled for a follow up medical examination, as well as a psychological evaluation." Tseng tensed, and he knew Veld caught it. "A precaution, Tseng. If there is anything wrong, I want it caught and corrected."

The commander turned his computer display back around and began to type something. "You have a lot of potential Tseng, I'd prefer not to see it wasted over a mistake."

"Yes, sir," Tseng said, offering a short bow. It wasn't required, but old traditions died hard. He tried to shake off the small sliver of fear that touched his mind though, and clung to his belief that the head of the Turks would always have the best interest of his subordinates in mind. Veld nodded, then turned the display once more. Back to business, the Turks never seemed to have downtime.

"I have a new assignment for you, one you will be taking on in addition to missions. Surveillance of a target with minimal contact." Tseng stared at the screen, greeted with the picture of a young girl, early to mid teens if he had to guess. Brown hair and stunning green eyes sat above a simple smile. Tseng's eyes began to sting, but he ignored it. "We've been watching her, and though of course we're to evaluate for potential as a SOLDIER..." Tseng frowned a bit. A girl this young? A SOLDIER candidate? Seemed ludicrous. "In truth, the surveillance request mostly originates from the Science Research Division."

Tseng looked up at his superior, meeting the older man's gaze. There was more to the story, more to this girl if _they_ wanted her, but as of yet the rookie clearly didn't have the security clearance to know it. Which made the younger man wonder.

"May I ask, sir, why I have been given this assignment?" He was only a rookie, and while he was eager to prove himself... wouldn't one of the more senior Turks be better suited? Veld stared at him, as if debating spelling it out, before answering.

"It is possible that, in the future, we may be apprehending this target by force. Until that order is issued, we'd like to gain her trust in the interim. Though you lack experience, you are the only active Turk we have that currently has less than a decade separating you in age. It may give you more success than we've had so far." There was just the barest hint of humor in Veld's voice, just enough to keep Tseng from feeling self conscious about his age.

He wasn't technically the youngest member listed within their department, no. That honor was held by a beautiful young girl with a growing talent with the shuriken. Currently, however, she was still within the training program, her early adoption into the Turks yet to grow into an official position. Promoted officially into the Turks as young as he was, Tseng had a rather significant age gap when it came to his peers.

Tseng nodded, eyes taking in the details of the file though no doubt it'd be waiting for him on his personal computer already. "Surveillance for now is priority?" Veld eyed him keenly, the sort of look Tseng was coming to know as his 'I'm going to let you come to your own conclusions, and evaluate them' look. Tseng tried to squash the anxiety he felt over that. There were many times where he felt that Veld was evaluating him, watching to see what he could do beyond black and white commands.

Dismissed, Tseng headed back to the meager office he held as a rookie. If not for the fact that all Turks earned offices rather than cubicles, he doubted he'd have it. Their work was too confidential for an open cube though. Once seated at his own desk, he wasn't surprised to see that the personal schedule he had on his PHS had been updated with his medical appointments. He noted the times and dates mentally, sitting back in his chair. He moved to rest his hands in his lap, palms up as his fingers instinctively moved to create a loose circle.

The pain was back, headache making his temples throb. He wondered why his head should be hurting so intensely, when it was his chest that'd suffered the most. It wouldn't stop him from getting some work done though, he wouldn't ask to go home. A Turk worked through anything, and he refused to be the exception. However, after Veld had shown him his new assignment, the discomfort had been steadily rising. He tried to fight the urge to grit his teeth against the pain, knowing the tension it created would only make things worse. The throbbing simply refused to die down though, the pain gaining in intensity.

He shivered violently and let out a small gasp as something flashed through his mind. A memory... no... that couldn't be right? He reached to his still bruised chest, checking it yet _again_ for a phantom wound he just didn't have. But the pain, the sensation of the blood... it was all too real, and he could swear he saw her kneeling before him in such a comforting manner. She seemed... sad as well. There were others behind her... but it was _her_. It _had_ to be. Older, somehow, impossibly of course, but her. "Aerith..." he whispered, almost marveling at the familiarity of the name. The pain in his head seemed to ease a bit, the wound he never suffered going numb.

* * *

><p><strong>End chapter note:<strong>

Veld, I'll admit, presents a challenge for me in writing. Even watching BC play throughs, I'm still working out how to type him.

Thank you to those who reviewed last chapter. It is much appreciated.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**: No Complications

* * *

><p>He understood having the extra pair of eyes on him... but he didn't like it. Much as Tseng was still a rookie, up until now he'd largely proven himself as a competent and well qualified member of the Turks. He'd excelled, and the rumors some liked to circulate about him soon rising in the ranks weren't unfounded. To have a partner assigned to him for this mission... a partner assigned to supervise and call the shots, rankled. It felt like a giant step backwards for the rookie, as if one failed mission had dropped him right back to the bottom of the ladder. His ambitions rebelled against such a fate, but there was nothing to be done about it in all honesty.<p>

Intellectually, Tseng couldn't fault Veld for this. Based on the... well, call it 'lingering confusion'... from his injuries and failed mission, it was difficult to send Tseng right back into the field. Difficult, yet still necessary. Turks weren't in large supply, and the unfinished business with this minor terrorist cell could not be ignored. He'd yet to have his follow up appointments, but Tseng was hoping that they would prove to be unnecessary. As it was he'd woken this morning feeling much better, his mind much sharper. He was cautiously hopeful that whatever the... 'visions' were... that they were done. Gone. Well, no reason to devote too much attention to that _now_. The medical appointment was tomorrow, the psychological one the day after. He'd know more then.

With the precision of routine, Tseng made another check of his sidearm, body shifting slightly as the helicopter prepared to descend. He was grateful, in a way, that he was being given the opportunity to clean up after his mistake. They'd gathered more intel on the movements of the group that'd sent him to the infirmary, and it was time to catch a few of them, bring them in for some questioning. They were small, hardly a threat at present, but what better time to cut off danger? Cut it now, before it could grow into something the public eye would notice. Public image was very important to ShinRa, and it simply wouldn't do to allow a group to publicly go against the company. The war with Wutai was strain enough, dissent against ShinRa in Midgar itself would definitely hurt troop moral and recruitment.

_'At least there is Sephiroth...'_ Tseng's lips almost twisted at the thought. The man was certainly inspiring quite a bit of hero worship, and those flocking to become SOLDIERs increased by the day. The Turk frowned, a phantom of pain constricting his chest, a tiny needle to his head. He shook it away, his frustration mounting. His cautious hope that his 'condition' had cleared with bed rest may have been in vain. He began to squint his eyes, dreading and, yes, half fearing he was about to see another of those nonsensical visions of suffering.

"Alright kid?" His partner's voice through his earpiece snapped his eyes open, and Tseng looked up quickly. 'Brass' was watching him from his seat across, his signature weapon dangling from his fingertips rather than worn on his knuckles at the moment. Tseng pursed his lips for a moment, annoyed at being called 'kid', yet more so that he'd been acting strangely enough for others to notice. He knew well enough how observant Turks were supposed to be at all times, and that Brass was here specifically to watch him. He needed to do better than this.

He gave a nod of the head in lieu of a verbal answer, noting they'd be landing shortly. It would be a bit of ground travel after that to get to the base they were targeting, a helicopter obviously not the most subtle of vehicles. In all likelihood they wouldn't be completing their mission until the sun would be close to rising. Dirty work was best done in the dark and all.

Brass shifted in his seat, adjusting his harness as the copter touched down. Buckles were undone by both men, the Turks disembarking with practiced silence, making their way to a waiting car. It was inconspicuous, seemingly run down yet fitted with an engine powerful enough to speed them away if things went sour. After tossing a scruffy jacket over his suit coat, Brass got behind the wheel, Tseng donning a similarly threadbare overcoat and riding shotgun. The patchwork filth of the Slums surrounded them as they drove, progress slow thanks to the congested debris and vagabonds that clogged the shoddy streets. A few beggars and would-be thieves looked in the window, but the Turks paid them no mind.

With the coats over their uniform suits, they weren't likely to be immediately recognized. Turks, as a general rule, didn't often hide who they were. Wearing the suit was a point of pride, a trademark of who they were. It inspired a certain reaction in their targets. This mission though... well... this group had already dealt with a Turk... and supposedly bested him. They'd be watching for retaliation or another visit from their organization. No reason to grant them advanced warning.

It was a long car ride ahead of them, the helicopter having left them two sectors away from the one they were heading for. Overly cautious, perhaps, but ShinRa helicopters didn't just fly down from the plate for pleasure trips. Anyone watching the skies... not that most Slums residents would want to look up at the Plate, would no doubt wonder what the company was up to now.

"You remember mission objective, and your role?" Brass' voice broke into Tseng's thoughts, and the younger man grit his teeth for a moment. Ludicrous that the other Turk would even think he had to ask. Insulting really. Lashing out... letting emotions rule... Tseng was still training himself to prevent such things. It took him a moment longer than he wanted to be able to respond calmly.

"Yes. Once we reach the target site I'll infiltrate and secure the building adjacent to the group's base. Once the building is secure, I'll set up and cover the back exit of the base from a second story window. I'll give you the signal once in place, then wait to provide support while you secure targets for questioning back at headquarters." Brass nodded his head, satisfied that at least Tseng remembered what he was supposed to be doing. The rookie Turk looked out the window, a mild frown marring his brow.

"How's your wound? Not bleeding is it?" Brass' voice was casual when he asked, but too much so. Tseng shot him a sharp look.

"Bleeding? No. I wasn't stabbed." His voice was blunt, his answer cold yet hopefully not petulantly so. His partner looked at him briefly before turning his eyes back to the road.

"Good. Remember that. I don't want the person watching my back having a breakdown." Brass' words were delivered dryly, and the rookie felt his pride sting just a bit. Was that what the other Turks believed was happening to him?

- 1 2 3 4 5 4 3 2 1 -

Crouched by the window, Tseng kept his eyes trained towards the base door. So far, everything was going smoothly. He'd gotten into the building without drawing any attention, and he'd been able to silently take down the few sentries he'd found patrolling inside. It was a relief not to have to draw his gun, silenced or not. The sentries were currently tied up in the room behind him, unconscious still but alive. If Brass failed to apprehend his target, they wouldn't be returning to ShinRa empty handed. It'd be more useful, of course, to have someone higher up than a mere guard to question.

The muffled sound of gunfire from the base gave Tseng only a couple of moments warning before the door he was watching burst open. Two men rushed out, one with a significant limp, the other stumbling as he attempted to run and shoot behind him. Slum dwellers who'd been loitering in the alleyways nearby turned and fled or watched with dull eyes. Violence of this sort was nothing new to the lower inhabitants of Midgar. Tseng spared one more glance towards the door, wondering where Brass was and why he hadn't given any warning or request for aid over their communicators. He'd figure that out as soon as he could, but for now he needed to stop their targets from getting away.

It wasn't a sniper's rifle, but Tseng aimed through a cracked hole in the window, sighting for the gunman's leg. His first shot grazed the man's thigh, his second shattered his knee. The man went down in a mass of agony, the limping target scrambling for the cover of a nearby dumpster. Tseng's lips drew into a thin line, knowing full well he'd lost any clear line of sight on the man from this room.

_"I've got it, hold your position,"_ came Brass' voice through his earpiece just moments before the man himself rushed out of the base door. He moved on the downed gunner first, making sure to disarm him, before he dragged the other man from the dumpster, taking him down with precision. Tseng noted his partner looked rather disheveled, a couple of rips in his suit indicating a struggle. Why hadn't he requested backup? _"All clear, leave the sentries you found where they are, and help me get these two in the car."_

"Understood," Tseng uttered into his mic, keeping his gun unholstered and ready until he was at his fellow Turk's side. Brass had already bound the two men, grunting as he lifted the one he'd knocked unconscious over his shoulder. The gunner was still conscious, though barely. Tseng wouldn't be able to carry the man over his shoulder like Brass could, but he could help the man limp the distance it would take to get to the car.

"I'd would advise cooperating," he said to the man in a tone that promised unpleasantries should the advice not be taken. Rebellion flashed in the other's eyes, and though it looked for a moment as though the man would do something foolish like spit at him... in the end the terrorist knew it was futile. He clearly wasn't ready to give his life for his cause, and chose instead to throw himself to whatever mercy ShinRa might offer. No doubt the pain in his leg was making it nearly impossible to think straight anyway.

As they walked their prisoners the short distance to their car, Brass gave him an appraising once over. "Looks like everything went off without a hitch," he offered casually. Tseng gave his partner an obvious once over in return.

"I'm not so sure about that..." he said. Brass shrugged... as well as one could with a man over his shoulder.

"When you get up close and personal with your target, rather than keeping your distance with a gun, you're bound to get a bit messy." Tseng said nothing, not wanting to get drawn into the mild debate that sometimes cropped up amongst the Turks. Were melee weapons truly appropriate in their line of work? Was a reliance on firearms shortsighted? Tseng, personally, preferred a more well rounded approach, but those like Brass were fairly set in their ways. They learned out of obligation... but were inflexible when in the field. Inflexibility was never a good trait for a Turk, so far as Tseng could see.

"Two of the new recruits coming up are melee oriented you know," Brass added once they were secure in the car and driving, their targets sedated and restrained in the back. They had discarded their shoddy coats, having no reason to disguise who they were now. The ShinRa suits would likely keep any Slum rats from molesting them on their ride back.

Tseng gave a thoughtful hum, brows drawing in just slightly as he tried to recall which two recruits Brass was referring to. It would be nice to no longer be the newest Turk, to have a bit of seniority.

"Veld's planning to bring them into active duty soon," the man continued, and Tseng arched his brows at this. Last he'd heard, the two were at _least_ a few months away.

"Is that so?" The rookie asked, and Brass chuckled.

"Well, maybe after I report on how you did on this mission, he won't feel he needs to. Though, I'd rather he did. More melee in the ranks suits me just fine."

Tseng closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. So... Veld was _that_ worried about his condition? Distressing as that was, he was a bit relieved after this mission. In and out, no problems. No phantom pains after the helicopter ride, no strange visions. Hopefully his reliability would no longer be in question.

* * *

><p><strong>End chapter note:<strong>

Brass isn't a BC Turk... obviously.

No, I didn't abandon this fic. I don't do that, regardless of popularity. Fall off the internet, now that I do sometimes. Disgusting habit for a fanfic writer, I know. I have working drafts of the next few chapters, so weekly updates should resume. _Should_.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**: Exposure

* * *

><p>He was still a bit groggy from the mission when he arrived for his appointment, but it was only to be expected. Tseng hadn't been asked to participate in the actual interrogation but delivering the two terrorists had taken him well through the night, right towards the time of his checkup. He'd written up his report, stolen a small nap at his desk, and arrived precisely on time. The doctor hadn't seemed surprised at all to see the fatigue on his patient. Though the man didn't often treat Turks, to see one fresh and well rested would have probably been more of a surprise.<p>

The doctor he was seeing toady, a Doctor Hoch, was not a very talkative man. He was attentive, definitely so, but small talk seemed as unappealing to him as it did to the rookie. He wasn't unpleasant, though Tseng did not really feel 'pleasant' was a requirement for doctors. He'd take taciturn and level headed over bubbly and unreliable any day, thank you.

Aside from the quick standard checks (weight, blood pressure, etc), and some samples sent down for testing, most of the appointment seemed to revolve around the trauma that the blow to his head caused. The site of the wound was barely tender, Hoch's blunt probing causing more discomfort than the bruise that was no doubt hidden beneath Tseng's dark hair. It was a mind dulling battery of checks, the medical professional asking question after question. At one point he pulled out what Tseng identified as a variant of the Libre Materia. As the Materia wouldn't grant any positive status or effects to the Turk, the rookie had no true room to question its use. A different story if the man had sought to heal him, but he didn't appear to be so inclined.

It was never pleasant sitting about in a cold examination room in just a backless hospital gown, but it was also never pleasant being on the receiving end of a full physical examination, either. At least they had to be nearing the end, all manner of light and machine having had a turn at Tseng's head or eyes. He tried to ignore the chill that crept over his skin, that left gooseflesh on his arms, focusing instead on watching the doctor. It was a relief to finally see the man snapping off latex gloves and moving to scribble all over the paper copy of Tseng's chart.

"Well... barring any abnormal results from the blood and urine samples we've sent down to the labs... you're physically very fit and healthy," the man drawled, taking a seat on a rolling stool across from where Tseng sat on the paper covered exam table. There was something to the set of the doctor's mouth that indicated a chronic smoking habit the Turk absently noticed. It was difficult to turn off _his_ habit of analyzing those around him. "I don't see anything from your previous injury to cause concern, really."

Tseng nodded, some of his hair sliding over his shoulders, making him want to tie it all back up. He'd taken it down for the head examinations of course. A nasty draft slithered down Tseng's always straight spine, though he resisted the urge to reach back and attempt to pinch the gown closed. Discipline, just listen to the doctor, so far it'd been good news. Relief hovered about him, as if a bird waiting to take roost. Much to Tseng's vexation, it wasn't given the chance based on the doctor's next words. "The only thing that does trouble me is the Mako."

Frowning, the Turk rookie pursed his lips. The first doctor who'd examined him had asked about Mako exposure as well. Hoch studied his face for a moment, before sliding the stool over to the computer in the room. The doctor brought up the digital chart, and Tseng wondered just _what_ discrepancies existed between the paper and digital versions. Oh as a Turk he was well aware of the fact that multiple versions of such things were created. He made a mental note to exercise his training later to confirm what was in each.

"When you were brought in initially, there were lingering traces of Mako found in your bloodstream reported by the attending physician. Nothing excessive, however enough worth noting. More than what someone would pick up from living here in Midgar. It seems more consistent with the levels one would expect to find if you'd used Materia... or had it used on you." The doctor looked at Tseng at this, as if seeking some sort of confirmation.

"To my knowledge, no Materia was involved in the situation." He wasn't, apparently, the best source to go to for what had actually happened, but Tseng was almost positive no spells of any sort had been cast on either side. He'd not been authorized to carry any Materia for that mission at any rate.

The doctor slid his stool over closer to Tseng again, apparently disinterested in actually walking anywhere, leaning forward to peer into Tseng's eyes. "You haven't used any Materia since? Or been at the receiving end of a spell?"

The Turk shook his head to the negative, giving a slight quirk of a brow. "Your use of Materia in this examination would be the only exposure I've had."

The doctor frowned. "Then it _should_ have passed from your system by now. The level noted originally should have at the very least dropped. It appears to have remained consistent instead." Scooting back to the computer, the man began to scroll through Tseng's medical history and occasionally type. "You've been screened for Mako Sensitivity?"

Tseng pursed his lips for a moment, brows furrowing. "I have had the basic screening required by my Department," he answered succinctly.

"Hmmm..." The doctor grunted, apparently deep in thought, following a train of thought Tseng wasn't comfortable with.

It went without saying that a Turk, in the course of their very varied duties and missions, would likely be working near Mako at some point. Whether it be in a Reactor, illegal Mako laced substances, or even the ever rare natural source, those especially sensitive to the substance would need to be identified. They weren't given as in depth or extensive tests as SOLDIERs were, it simply wasn't necessary, and ShinRa cut financial corners with reckless glee. However, Tseng _had_ been tested, and he'd shown no particular sensitivity to Mako. Casual exposure to it, the Turk version of 'casual' at any rate, had never been an issue for him.

Hoch moved his lips and the rookie could imagine the cigarette that 'should' have been there. A nasty addicting habit that led to easy tells in mood and disposition. Hoch was stumped, his medical training hitting the wall of its usefulness. Tseng expected it bothered the man more than he wished to let on. "Mako and Materia really aren't my areas of expertise, but I'd advise further testing with this. I'll be forwarding your information along to another colleague of mine."

The rookie blinked, sharp mind quickly following the doctor's thought process. "You believe I'm suffering from Mako Poisoning?" If he weren't a Turk, he surely would have sounded incredulous. As it was, he suspected his voice came off a bit offended.

"You're not suffering from physical trauma," the doc returned bluntly, frowning at the possible slight to his medical analysis. "I was called in as a second opinion, looks like you need a third."

Tseng cleared his throat and the doctor smiled. "I know, I know, you're a Turk. Believe me, your superior will have to approve my request to do so before anything will happen. That all said, you're free to go, and you'll be notified of any abnormalities or conditions of concern we find." He asked Tseng if he had any further questions, which the Turk declined asking for now. The doctor finished typing his recommendations into the digital file, picked up Tseng's paper chart, and tossed the Turk a bland smile. "Have a nice day," he said, leaving the room.

Tseng dressed back into his uniform suit, brooding in this moment of quiet privacy. His mind felt like it was working in circles, trying to find any moment where he _may_ have been exposed. His last mission had gone so well and he was feeling appropriately sharp of wit based on the amount of rest he'd had. With his... symptoms... mostly gone, it was strange to be told there may still be something lingering. _'Mako levels remaining high?'_ Tseng buttoned his suit slowly, shaking his head. He would have rather been told he was experiencing disorientation due to the head injury. Having too many references to Mako in your medical chart was never a good thing. Tseng knew more than enough about what went on within the ShinRa labs to know he didn't want an up close look.

Leaving the examination room, Tseng turned his thoughts away from wasted mental pursuits. Frustrating as it was, he was unlikely to come to any brilliant conclusions or recollections. It was best, then, to focus on his duties. He needed to begin his surveillance assignment. He stifled a yawn, pausing in his walk just for a moment. Perhaps he would investigate the church she was reported to frequent, ensure the small cameras fellow Turks had installed were still there. Perhaps he would install a few more, or change position of previous ones. He'd decide once he arrived.

As he reached the end of the hall, the rookie stopped, frowning. Should he wait until dark? It would make verifying the cameras more difficult, and he'd be less likely to run into the girl. The Turk's eyes dulled a bit, mind dancing around the issue of seeing her. Obviously he was going to not only see her in time, but he would have to make contact with her if he hoped to gain her trust. Undo some of the damage the Turks who'd been assigned to her before may have done. The dull pain that began to creep behind his eyes, and the odd tightening in his chest, unnerved him. He'd... not told Dr. Hoch about the potential triggers for his headaches and disorientation.

He was having a psychological evaluation tomorrow, so he saw no reason to tell more people about these... mental lapses, than absolutely necessary. It was unnerving, however, to have the focus of his next assignment creating such anxiety. One successful mission would not be enough to regain Veld's confidence. Tseng needed to be at his best, and he couldn't let whatever stress this flower girl was causing him to overwhelm him.

_'I'll go at night then. Verify the cameras, verify the area. A better grasp of the environment I'll be navigating will help to ground me. Then, I will initiate contact another day.'_ Decided, Tseng tried to force from his mind the lingering doubt he had in his choice.

* * *

><p><strong>End chapter note:<strong>

Hmm... nope. Nothing to say. Unless you want me to confirm that yes, Aerith is in the next chapter. So much for your plan Tseng.**  
><strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**: Seedling

* * *

><p>The church had a ghostly presence to it, moonlight filtering slowly through the hole in the ceiling. The ever present dust of the Slums drifted slowly through the air, smoky and lethargic as it drifted in the too faint breeze that blew this evening. The atmosphere did nothing to unnerve Tseng, however, the Turk moving through the church as quietly as any specter that might have dared to stalk the ruined hallowed ground. He'd been there since sunset, working efficiently as possible. A shallow yawn escaped his lips as his fingers released the last of the upper cameras.<p>

He'd thought it best, of course, to do any work up in the damaged rafters first. He was confident in his balance and reflexes, even now, but it was always best to proceed with caution. The old wooden beams and supports were rotting if they weren't broken and splintering. That wasn't even taking into account any critters or creatures that may lurk up there. Oddly enough, the rookie hadn't actually run into anything worse than a very very small rodent. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, surely the girl wouldn't linger someplace that was crawling with beasts.

As he descended to the ground floor of the church, his mind methodically reviewed the meager information he'd been given on the girl and the church for this assignment. He was confident that in time, if he showed professionalism, promise, and progress more details would be offered to him. She was important, extremely so if Tseng's instincts were right. That just made it strange, however, that she'd yet to be apprehended. It wasn't as though the Turks were shy in acquiring those ShinRa desired or deemed necessary.

A child in the Slums shouldn't require excessive force to apprehend, distasteful as the prospect was. Veld's words about wanting the girl's trust seemed to be the largest and most relevant clue to the hold up. Whatever her future purpose, it seemed it would be ideal if she came of her own free will. His lips quirked just slightly, thinking back to the reports the previous Turks assigned to watch her had submitted. Wonderfully talented and highly trained as all Turks were... they weren't necessarily family-oriented or used to dealing with children on a friendly level.

_'They've made this more difficult if anything,'_ he reflected. The most recent reports indicated she'd taken to running away upon spotting the distinctive Turk uniform. There was an easy way around that, of course, but if they wanted her _trust_... then Tseng decided against wearing plain clothes to the first meeting he had with her. It was surveillance with minimal contact, so he had no plans to engage her in conversations unnecessarily or too often anyhow.

He'd walked across the ground floor, hesitating as he neared the patch of flowers growing rather inexplicably inside the church. He frowned, tension building and coiling in his gut. He was not a man prone to paranoia or wild fits of imagination, but he couldn't deny the sensation that washed over him. The flowers were benign, simple pastel colors washed out under the moonlight. All the same, as his steps faltered, he noticed he was giving them a rather wide berth as he passed. His hands felt clammy as he flexed his fingers to release the tension.

He felt... unwelcome. He felt... as though something hostile rested amongst the blooms and petals. Something that wished him harm. _'Nonsense...'_ Perhaps he wasn't as immune to night shadows as he'd believed? Though... in all his missions as a Turk thus far, he'd never felt like this...

The door to the church creaked open, groaning on its hinges. Tseng's eyes widened just a bit as he moved on reflex, darting silently to the nearest shadow. He pressed his body against a tall column, one that thankfully hadn't collapsed yet. His hand strayed for his gun, though as he peered carefully for the intruder his body went still.

_'What is she doing here?'_ He watched incredulously as his very target entered the church, pulling the over sized heavy door closed behind her. She was dressed in her bedclothes it seemed, a simple pink cotton gown that danced about her knees. No sweater or wrap had been thrown on over, though she had gone through the trouble to tie her hair up it seemed. That and put on a pair of boots.

The Turk shook his head ever so slightly, baffled yet annoyed. He'd come here, when he was technically off hours and free to actually go home and rest, specifically to avoid seeing her. And here she was... wandering the Slums at night in her nightgown as if she wasn't in any sort of danger! It was difficult to tell if he was more upset at having his plans for the night altered, or that his fellow Turks hadn't been able to catch a girl who apparently had so little common sense.

Her steps down the center aisle spoke clearly of how familiar she was with the church, her feet never once touching any of the creaking floorboards Tseng had found and noted. Her arms were wrapped about her body as she approached the flowers, as if she was cold. The worried look on her face, however, made Tseng think it must be more than that. Her eyes skimmed about slowly, and it was clear she was looking for something. Tseng cast his own gaze about, wondering if there was something of interest he'd missed.

She was clearly making her way towards the flowers, though, and the way her brows furrowed as she got closer made Tseng's gut squirm. She wore a look of worried concentration... she... she almost looked as if she was listening to something. Tseng listened carefully, but could hear nothing but the faint ambient sounds of the Slums. He watched as she came closer and closer to the flower patch, one of her hands coming up to cup at her ear slightly.

When she turned and looked him straight in the eye rather suddenly, Tseng had no chance to slink back and conceal himself further. Green eyes opened wide as they locked with his, and if the Turk saw any visions this time, he didn't remember. The pain that laced through his head had him floored and unconscious so fast he barely registered that she was running away.

- 1 2 3 4 5 4 3 2 1 -

"H... Hello? Hellooo?"

Tseng groaned, head throbbing, dimly aware that something seemed to be poking at his chest. He managed to bring one arm up, weakly trying to wave or brush it away. Startled footsteps shuffled back, a tiny feminine gasp catching the Turk's attention. It was certainly an unexpected sound to wake to. Gritting his teeth for a moment, Tseng tried to relax and take in a deep breath. Slowly he opened his eyes, staring blankly at the world around him. He couldn't place where he was right away, eyes taking in as much as they could from his prone position on the ground.

_'The ground?'_ With a small grunt of effort he managed to sit up, curling forward slightly and clutching his head as the pain within it intensified from the motion. He waited out the pain, simple breathing exercises taking his mind off the ache slightly. He could see from his position that he was sitting upon some dusty wooden floorboards. When his head felt less likely to shatter he looked up, gazing at ruined church. The details of the night started to slowly flood back to him, and he turned his head carefully to find Aerith.

They both flinched when they made eye contact, though for much different reasons no doubt. Tseng couldn't sort through what hit him when he looked into her eyes, but he could read _her_ reaction well enough. Fear. Wariness. Readiness to run. She brandished a stick at him, as if that tiny length of wood could serve as a proper weapon against a Turk. He watched her, massaging one of his temples with his fingers.

"You came back?" His voice wasn't nearly as composed as he would have liked, raw and dry. She gave a little squeak, backing away as if thinking that she should indeed be anywhere but here. Tseng carefully got to his feet, swaying a bit and having to reach out to steady himself against a pew despite his pride. It caused the girl to back away a few more steps, everything in her posture screaming that she wanted to flee. _'So why hasn't she?'_

Her gaze flicked for just a moment towards the flowerbed, and Tseng followed her eyes. The world seemed to lurch on him, and he had to hold to the pew tighter. He blinked trying to focus his eyes. Something... something was wrong with the flowerbed. It was... flooded? Gone? He reached up a hand to pinch at his eyes, anger and frustration and even some panic welling up inside of him. Just what... what the hell was wrong with him? Lowering his hand had revealed the flowers to be as plain as before, no mysterious water, no phantom sword as a monument. _'Wait...'_

"... are you... alright?" Aerith's voice broke him out of whatever it was he'd been seeing, the rookie turning his head to look down at her. She seemed genuinely concerned about him, despite the situation. It hurt more than it comforted him, though he couldn't fathom why.

"Yes," he said simply, giving her a small nod and turning to face her properly. They hit a sort of stalemate, an awkward silence that lingered heavy in the air. Tseng felt like there was so much he had to say to her... yet at the same time he knew he truly had very little. He didn't even know her, and he wasn't about to divulge the full details of his assignment to her. It could be fine, perhaps, to simply leave now. It wasn't an ideal first contact, but it wasn't disastrous at least.

"What are you doing here?" The girl asked, apparently not of the mind to leave things at this. Tseng shook his head.

"What are _you_ doing here? It's not safe for a young lady to wander the Slums at night, especially not alone and in her bedclothes." He'd kept his voice carefully neutral, but from the expression that crossed her face you'd almost think he'd been scolding her. The pout was... endearing. _'I'm not here to be charmed by her.'_

She didn't provide him with an answer, though a look crossed her eyes that spoke well enough. It wasn't accusatory, but she wasn't as naive as she may have seemed. She knew the Turks were following her, were watching her. She must have known on some level that nowhere was 'safe' for her, yet that with the ShinRa agents shadowing her, there was probably little to fear from the common Slum thug.

"Maybe I should hire a bodyguard," she said softly, under her breath. Tseng arched a brow when she cast him a sideways glance. "But, it wouldn't make a difference, would it?"

While of course he had no true intention of encouraging anything that would make his task more difficult, he had no reason to be cruel. Her thought was correct. Unless she somehow found some sort of rogue SOLDIER to come guard her, it really _wouldn't_ make a difference. "It's not a bad thing to be cautious," he replied judiciously. She arched her brows for a moment before her lips quirked just slightly.

"Are you always so formal, Mr. Turk?" She still didn't seem at ease with him, not by a long shot, but she seemed more herself like this. She wasn't a girl suited for watching over her shoulder at every turn, to staring at others in distrust.

"I prefer to call it 'professional'," he offered, his expression softening just a bit. It seemed perhaps building a rapport with her might not be as difficult as he'd anticipated. Whether it was his age in comparison to the other Turks she'd met or perhaps her natural inclination to be friendly, they were at least conversing without too much trouble.

She wrinkled her nose at him, her grip on the stick loosening just a bit. She took a few steps away from him, keeping him in her sight he couldn't help but notice. She flicked a glance towards the door, the prospect of running still there. She seemed curious though. Curious yet not willing to ask what was on her mind. Did she want to know why _he_ was there? Why yet another new suit was watching her? Did she worry that if she asked, she'd be expected to offer information in return?

"Do you like flowers?" Tseng was caught off guard with that question. Perhaps she... well, he supposed he shouldn't expect a civilian to consider the same things he did. He cast a guarded look towards the flowers, which she must have noticed by her laugh. "I know you don't see them much in Midgar, but they aren't scary!" She giggled slightly as Tseng sighed and mentally berated himself. "So... do you?"

He reached for an answer, at a loss. He didn't dislike flowers, but he had no great love of them. As he wasn't a native to Midgar they weren't much of an intriguing novelty, either.

"Oh... you're another one of the quiet ones, then?" She tilted her head, her expression a mix of childish emotions.

"I don't think about flowers often," he admitted honestly, shaking his head. He chose to continue watching her rather than looking at the colorful plants. Honestly, watching her left him in turmoil and unbalanced, but it was better than what he felt staring at the makeshift garden. "It's good to see they can thrive, even here."

Her smile was warm, pleased and genuine. "I take care of them, it'd be sad if they died." The peace in her expression faltered for a moment, that strained listening look touching her face as she glanced away from him again. She worried at her lower lip, and Tseng couldn't help but commit every act and gesture to memory. It was part of why he was here, after all. He considered for a moment asking her again why she was here, all alone this late at night. He doubted he'd gain an answer, though. The silence stretched and deepened.

"Shall I walk you home?" He inquired when she seemed too absorbed in staring at the flowers to pay proper attention to her surroundings. It took her a moment to look his way, and her smile was resigned, too old looking for her face.

"I guess you do know where I live, don't you?" Tseng nodded, no reason to lie about something so obvious. "And you know my name?"

"I do, Miss Gainsborough." She let out a sigh, shaking her head.

"Do I get to know yours, or is it just 'Mr. Turk'?" It was clear she expected to see the Turk again whether she wished to or not.

"Tseng," he offered with a slight bow of the head, which got a small chuckle out of her and the slight lightening of her spirits. She took a step towards the door, then paused as if she'd forgotten something. She regarded him with a serious look, as if scrutinizing him or looking for some sort of trap. He clasped his hands lightly in front of his body, watching her with a mildly questioning look.

She raced away from him, though she stopped immediately at the flowers. Tseng watched her covertly from the corner of his eye. She knelt down, browsing through the flowers carefully, her lips moving as if she was perhaps talking to them. He did know that people believed plants thrived when spoken to, so it didn't seem _too_ strange to him. He couldn't help but arch an eyebrow when she plucked three simple stalks from the dirt. Two held buds at the end, not yet in bloom, yet one displayed elegant yellow petals.

She returned to him, holding the flowers out to him. "Payment," she said, something just a bit defiant in her tone, just a bit scared. "For walking me home. So we'll be even."

The message was clear. She wanted no debt between them, nothing to tie her to ShinRa. Tseng nodded his head, taking the flowers from her and half surprised they didn't burn or send needles of pain through his fingers. They were flowers, fresh and fragrant despite growing in the Slums... but that was all they were. Nothing special, certainly nothing to be wary around. He carried them carefully all the way to her home, watching as she ran the rest of the way there once it was in sight.

Tseng didn't follow to the door, leaving her her space for now. He observed the garden growing by her home, yet another natural wonder surrounding this apparently valuable little girl. He had questions he wished to have answered. Perhaps when he reported to Veld about his first contact with her, he'd be granted some.

He checked his watch, marveling at how little time he seemed to have between his shifts. He supposed it only made sense, considering he'd spent the majority of his off hours working tonight. He'd be able to catch a few hours of sleep before his psyche evaluation at least, and then he'd submit his report to Veld about Aerith...

But first, he needed to get home. And find a vase.

* * *

><p><strong>End chapter note:<strong>

First thing's first. Thanks so much for the reviews! The feedback is much appreciated and will definitely be taken into consideration for future chapters.

I've looked, but I've never found an official age for Tseng in relation to anyone else. At this point, finding out his official age would be wonderful for future fics (always lovely when the fic you're writing inspires another unrelated one), but not as much for THIS fic (since I have future chaps of this drafted/plotted and all). So for anyone wondering at age relationships for _this_ fic, I've set Tseng to be 6 years older than Aerith, 5 over Zack and about 3 over Rufus and Reno. You can figure everyone else as you wish.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**: In The Cards

* * *

><p>It was with more than a little trepidation that Tseng arrived at his psychological evaluation. He'd gotten some rest, but that did little to erase the turmoil he felt after his meeting with Aerith. So many thoughts buzzed through his mind, and he was unsettled on too many levels to properly sort out. Tseng had always believed he had an organized mind, and those corners that were ruled by emotions could be tempered by the teaching he'd learned in his youth or his training as a Turk. However, nothing seemed give him the sort of calm he was looking for, nothing he tried could sway him towards any answers.<p>

He'd never really been someone who sought out others in regards to personal concerns. Professional advice he'd seek out. Guidance in becoming a more effective Turk, of course. But this... whatever was happening to him... he was of more than two minds in how to approach it. He'd hoped to have reached some sort of plan before reaching this evaluation, but had failed to do so. Greeting the psychiatrist like this seemed like going into battle unprepared.

"Good morning, Tseng," a friendly looking woman said, holding out her hand to him. He took it, offering a solid shake before accepting the offered seat on the couch in the room. He didn't lie down across it, merely sitting with one leg crossed casually over his knee. The woman sat down in an arm chair opposite him, gesturing to some tea and light snacks that'd been set out for him. Every effort had been made to make the office feel welcoming and relaxed. "Do feel free," she offered, and though the Turk made no move to grab anything, he nodded politely.

"I'm Doctor Morre. Before we start our session here today, I wanted to know if _you_ had any specific concerns?" The woman hadn't grabbed up anything to write with, wasn't holding a recorder or any sort of digital typing device. That didn't mean this was 'off the record'... but it was a nice show of confidentiality if nothing else. In ShinRa... if the people at the top wanted to know something, nothing stood in their way.

While last night's encounter with Aerith had certainly presented him with 'specific concerns' he could bring up, the rookie just couldn't bring himself to do so. He knew that if he was truly experiencing some sort of mental deficiency, then it was in his best interest to do what he could to remedy it. However... he was still a young man, and the follies of youth combined with his pride to stay his tongue. He just... didn't feel he could trust her with everything he'd been experiencing. Shaking his head, Tseng easily held her gaze, not intimidated in the least. "My concern is the same as my superior's," he deferred.

Morre smiled, with her lips at any rate, nodding her head. Working at ShinRa, she was probably more than used to tight lipped patients. As if reading off a paper in her mind, the doctor listed out the symptoms of his malady. "The inaccurate memories, the inability to reliably remember what happened on your mission."

"Precisely," he said, though it was on some level a lie of course. His frustration over it all blended with his confusion over the cause of his predicament and apparent ailment. He honestly wanted to be 'cured'... yet part of him still held out that he could be without divulging everything. Tseng wanted to keep his records as clean as possible. If he could avoid anything entering his personal records that wasn't absolutely necessary, he would.

"Ok then. Now, according to the information forwarded my way..." Dr Morre got comfortable as she ran down a rather accurate assessment of the inaccuracies Tseng had been telling, from the initial doctor visit to even the conversation he'd had in Veld's office. No mention was made of the Masamune or Sephiroth specifically, however, his boss no doubt censoring the information for safety's sake. _Any_ mention of Sephiroth in any sort of report always drew a lot of attention. Turks liked to be the ones doing the looking, not being the ones looked at.

"Have you ever experienced anything like this in the past?" She asked, after her summary was complete. Tseng shook his head to the negative without hesitation. She regarded him for a moment, though it almost seemed as if she were staring at some sort of inward copy of his personal file. She seemed to posses quite the memory, if she could recall so much information on her patients without needing a physical prompt. It kept Tseng on edge.

"Considering your lineage... and the current state of the war with Wutai... we do not have any early medical records or documents on file for you." She let her brows arch just slightly, a subtle prompt.

"I've not experienced any similar symptoms before," he confirmed, keeping his tone professionally polite. It didn't bother him to speak of Wutai, nor was he ashamed to. His reasons for coming weren't terribly complicated to his way of thinking, yet for some they were unfathomable. It was simply easier to leave the subject alone. Too many people grew uneasy thinking that one of the enemy was currently working in the Turks. Oh it wasn't as 'terrifying' a thought to the public as the enemy becoming a SOLDIER and defecting back to Wutai, but it was unsettling to some.

She nodded her head, accepting of the answer for now at least. For the first time in the session, Morre moved to pick something up. It was a small stack of index cards, and she began to spread them out on the table, moving some of the snacks to make more room. Tseng noted the careful writing on the cards, beginning to read what was on each. "Well, let's concentrate on the event in question for now. On the table you see some index cards I've made. What I'd like you to please do for me is to read each over... then sort them to match the timeline of events in your mission. Any cards that don't apply you may set to the side."

Reading over the cards closely, Tseng was almost amused at some of the obviously fabricated cards. No, he was absolutely certain there had been no stampeding chocobos present. Someone had certainly not thrown a brick at his head either. Those were easily set to the side, leaving him with a dwindling pile of cards that mostly consisted of events he'd claimed to have happened. Staring at the cards, his head didn't ache so much as it felt raw. Like trying to open a wound over and over, to bleed something out when there was no blood left to do so.

"Take your time," Morre encouraged, and the Turk drew in a slow breath. His fingers didn't tremble, but very carefully he discarded the slip that indicated he'd been run through with a sword. His fingertips lingered on it even when he placed it on the discard pile, something in his gut not wanting to let it go. "Whatever you remember is ok, Tseng. Don't worry about anything but what _you_ remember."

She was telling him, of course, not to tailor his answer based on the 'facts' that he'd heard from the doctors and Veld. They explicitly stated he'd never been stabbed... but he just couldn't let go of that notion. He closed his eyes and returned that card to the ones in his hands, mulling over the stack he had left very cautiously. When at last he set down the version of events as he remembered it, he felt inordinately tired.

Morre took the cards, reading them over. Her face remained neutral until she came to one card, which prompted her to get up once more and look over her notes. It seemed she'd memorized her patient's info before the session, but now was uncertain. She seemed to read the notes again and again, as if seeking something, before she came and sat back down. Oh she smiled, a comforting sort of smile, but the Turk could see through it.

"Which card distresses you?" He asked, not so much bluntly, but efficiently. No reason to dance around the issue.

Morre turned the card around so Tseng could read it, watching his expression carefully. "This... is new to your recollection of events," she said.

Tseng frowned. This had to be wrong... he couldn't have put that card in there... could he? In stark black letters, staring back at him from the white card, were the simple words 'witnesses a vibrant green light/haze'. His fingers curled and tensed a bit where they sat in his lap. His mind immediately made connections to Mako, with every doctor apparently asking him about it, how could he not? But he was just so _certain_ he hadn't used Materia... that the men he'd fought hadn't used any either. Even looking at the card now, and thinking on it, he couldn't remember seeing any green lights. Had he put the card in in error? Had it simply stuck to another card, slipped in that way?

Perhaps noticing his distress over the matter, Morre smiled. Tseng couldn't read the intent behind her smile, and it nearly made him frown. "I think we'll stop here today. I'd like to set up another session of course."

The Turk eyed the way she held onto the card, his eyes boring into her. "Why did you place that card within the stack?"

"Protocol," she deflected simply, no doubt as ShinRa had trained her to do. More troubled than he would ever show, Tseng nodded in acceptance of the answer. Once again he felt his information was going to be forwarded about, provided Veld approved it. Surely his boss would do what was best? _'Best for ShinRa? Best for the Turks? Best for me?'_ Those three things didn't necessarily align, but Tseng had faith in the man.

"Now, before our next session, there's an exercise I'd like you to do. With most patients I see, the exercise is conducted here in the office... but I understand that with you it may be best to do it separate. Tonight, I'd like you to write down three very distinct memories. The clearer the memory, the more details you can fill in from it, the better. I'd like you to write down one memory from your early childhood, a memory of an event you regret, and again... the details of your failed mission. I know you're no doubt tired of rehashing that, but the continued inconsistency concerns me. After you write, or type, those memories, I want you to put them someplace secure. In the morning, I want you to write down those same memories again. The only one I'll ask you to bring to me to compare is the last, but I do want to know if you were able to recall the first two consistently."

She held out one hand, an empty placating gesture. "Obviously, it's to your benefit to do this honestly."

"Of course," he answered, rising with her. They set up a follow up appointment, and Tseng was left with heavy thoughts and unwanted reminiscence as he made his way towards the Turk offices.

* * *

><p><strong>End chapter note:<strong>

A little late on the update, but not that bad.

Once again, thank you SO much to those who review. The feedback is very much appreciated (and as I said, kept in mind for future chapters).


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: **Materia Fusion

* * *

><p>Tseng didn't pace his apartment like a wild animal, didn't rant or rage or go through any sort of theatrics. No, that wouldn't be like him, it would go against all of the training he'd endured as a Turk thus far. It would go against the discipline drilled into him as a boy. However, he <em>was<em> angry, very much so. He could admit to it, if only privately within the confines of his mind. It would perhaps be a few years yet before he would be able to truly master the emotions of youth, to perfect the shell of the ShinRa dog. He raked a hand over his head, fingers sliding over smooth black strands, catching and tugging free the band that held his hair.

He knew the best thing to do right now would be to remain calm. To take a breath, a moment, the rest of the evening at that, to cool off. He just needed some _time_ to settle down. A little distance to help smooth the raw edge today's events had carved into his composure. He slipped off his uniform jacket, undid his tie, and moved to stand by his window. The deep black of the night sky was washed away by the over-bright lights of the ShinRa compound. He squinted even though they weren't exactly blinding, not from where he watched them. He could remember gazing in awe upon these lights years ago, still so far from his goal. They didn't seem nearly as fantastic as they had then, nor did they impress him any longer.

They did provide a suitable backdrop to look at while he thought. He would have plenty of time to do so, now that he was for all intents and purposes _trapped_ in Midgar. His lips twisted into a rather sour grimace, one he was anything but pleased to see reflected from the window. It was a bit ironic to be trapped in this city, after he'd made such a choice to come here to begin with. It was the loss of any semblance of freedom that grated on his nerves. Well, that and much more. Letting his eyelids slip shut, today's events began to play through his mind.

He hadn't had any 'episodes', no random flashes of pain, no visions of things he couldn't quite understand. He'd performed the exercise that Dr. Morre had asked of him exactly to the letter. As she'd allowed, he'd taken a look at the first two memories he'd written down for comparison, and had felt pleased at the results. At least when it came to his childhood, as well as regrets, there was no confusion. He would wait to open up his account of his failed mission until his follow up appointment, one which loomed in his near future. He didn't fear going, yet it seemed to hold so much more importance now. Now that he...

He swore an oath under his breath, one from his homeland that would have had his mother furiously scolding him, would have brought such a look of disapproval his way. His situation was frustrating and, if he had to be completely honest, a bit scary. 'Terrifying' was too strong a word to allow. The eyes of ShinRa were upon him.

_"The results of both your physical examination, as well as your first psychological evaluation, have been reviewed..."_

Veld's voice had been as indecipherable as his eyes. Alone in his superior's office, Tseng had attempted to emulate the man's appearance. Stoic, professional, reserved, watchful. He knew he hadn't been able to keep the anxiety out of his eyes. Veld hadn't commented on it or acknowledged it in any way, instead continuing to speak to his purpose in deep and carefully modulated tones.

_"I will be approving the recommendation that you are examined by a Mako specialist..."_

The cold that had traced over Tseng's skin then remained even now. A coward he was not, but he was no fool. Those who specialized in Mako research invariably traced up to Hojo. Even as a rookie, the Turk knew too much to think his current position safe.

_"All appointments with the specialist will be witnessed by a fellow Turk..." Veld leaned back in his chair a bit, eyes sharp. Perhaps the comment was meant as some small measure of reassurance, some meager demonstration that Tseng wasn't being thrown to the wolves. It did little to settle the rookie, who took a step forward._

_"Sir, if I may ask... _what do they suspect_?" He shook his head slowly, ponytail barely swaying with the motion, and spread his hands palm up before him. His worry was only growing, and though he truly wished to ask __what_ Veld_ suspected, this question would have to suffice. "They have, given an opinion?"_

_Veld nodded, the gesture seeming heavy, weighted with some Tseng couldn't quite puzzle together. "Materia Fusion has been suggested. Though the Libra scan could not identify the precise Materia in question, all evidence of your condition point towards Materia as the source."_

_It was difficult to respond to that statement. Completely sweeping aside Tseng's continued belief that no Materia had been present, professionalism warred with fear for his personal safety. To view this only as a Turk, as he was supposed to, he knew he should be concerned about the possibility that others were practicing and perhaps perfecting Materia Fusion. Mako, the Lifestream, and everything else tied into it were ShinRa property (to ask to President). Proprietary research, secrets, techniques and equipment could have been compromised. Stolen._

_Was there a traitor? Would the Turks handle this? Would they be placed in charge of ferreting out the source of this new and dangerous competition? Materia Fusion in the hands of terrorists could clearly not be tolerated. It raised the threat exponentially._

_'_I've had an unknown Materia used on me?_' The thought made him afraid. The rookie didn't begin to tremble, didn't quake or break down. His lips twisted into a frown, brows drawing in with concern, but he held his poker face admirably well for one his age. He supposed, in a way, all of his appointments and exams had given him some preparation for this. Panic fluttered weakly in his chest, though, and he almost opened his mouth to speak. Almost asked a foolish question. Veld's steady gaze upon him kept him silent until he had a moment to rethink, to present the question instead as a statement suited for a Turk._

_"Dispell and Esuna will not be authorized for use in removing this, status ailment... until they have determined exactly what this new Materia is capable of." Lead seemed to form in the pit of his stomach as he said it, growing heavier with Veld's confirmation._

Stepping away from his window, moving quietly to his bedroom, Tseng was at a loss. He was not removed from duty, though he was to remain close and available for examination at all times beyond the ones scheduled already. No mission that would take him beyond Midgar's walls would be given to him, and anything that could detain him for more than a day would be denied as well. He was leashed tightly, under scrutiny, and miserable for it. As a rookie, he had so much to prove yet, so much higher in the department to climb. Yes, he'd sought to impress Veld, but this was hardly the way to do so. He could only hope to handle this as competently and professionally as possible... could only hope to use this as a demonstration of skill in adverse situations.

"Not that I will have much to do..." In all honesty, his days would likely be spent watching over the flocks of military recruits, silently observing those who'd marked an interest in SOLDIER in their applications. He could always distinguish himself somewhat if he could find a gem for the program, but that fell more to chance like this. It would lack the impact of a recruit found through personal research and recruiting to Midgar.

He changed his clothes slowly, removing the rest of his uniform and donning the soft loose clothing more suited for sleep. His eyes trailed to the vase by his bedroom window, the flowers from the church. He pushed away the strange sense of scrutiny the flowers seemed to conjure in his mind, the way they made him feel uncomfortable in his own room, focusing instead on Aerith. He would be able to continue his surveillance of her, at least. He would not be set back with that.

* * *

><p><strong>End chapter note:<strong>

Seriously and truly, this is not abandoned.

Forgive me as I find the voice of this fic again. It's tricky to have such a long break from writing. I struggled with this chapter, came at it from too many angles and drafts and still don't really like what I ended up with. However, I always have to remind myself that every chapter cannot be 'gold', and that it's much better to just get on with it.

SOLDIER recruits, clearly _someone_ will be showing up soon(ish)...


End file.
